


Under False Pretences

by MiHnn



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, F/M, Graphic Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Post - A Clash of Kings, Post - A Game of Thrones, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-05
Updated: 2011-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-26 23:03:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiHnn/pseuds/MiHnn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her mother had always told her that she was too weak to turn away from the enemy and do what was necessary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under False Pretences

**Author's Note:**

> A small ficlet written for the Challenge on Throneland where a story was to be written based off a Disney movie. I chose Mulan for their first meeting. AU with spoilers up to A Storm of Swords.

  
She had been praying to the Seven when her brother had entered her chambers.

"Wear this," he said whilst he placed boiled leather, armour and steel at her feet. "The young wolf is nearly upon us. You must run."

She had denied him, vowing to stay by his side, but he would hear none of it. Grabbing her by the arms he pulled her to her feet before roughly shoving his old armour into her arms. They were as heavy as she remembered them, the metal cold to her touch.

"We cannot let him take you as a hostage," he said. "Wear what I have given you. Braid your hair and hide it under your helm so you would look like no maiden. Ride out with us and when the battle begins turn your horse around and make for King's Landing. No one would chase a craven."

She had shaken her head and begged and pleaded to stay with their mother behind the castle walls but her brother was adamant. "Please, Jeyne. If you love me, if you love our lady mother, you must run. Ride to King's Landing and tell them of our plight."

With a heavy heart, she had donned the armour, but Jeyne didn't run.

She followed the host led by her brother as they met the young wolf, her mount less seasoned than the ones it followed and slower in pace. When the blades were drawn, she held back, the stench of blood and fear filling her nostrils as she watched from a safe distance; the men battling men while a wolf tore into the throats of their garrison one by one. She would have turned and fled had it not been for the bannerman near her brother falling to his death. Within a few moments, Reynald was pulled off his horse and was forced to battle a Northman, steel striking steel as they circled one another and danced for victory. The fear that rose within her made her tighten the grip on her reigns and urge the horse forward into the battle. She had no skill, no thought as to what she hoped to do. She could not leave her brother to face death. It was as simple a thought as that.

The Northman had a blade at her brother's throat when she dismounted, forcing her to bring Reynald’s old sword swinging towards the Northman's head. The Northman turned swiftly, his steel meeting hers, pushing her back and causing her to fall in an undignified manner. But when he raised his blade, both hands on its hilt, intent to strike her through her heart, he stopped, his gaze studying her face. He was lowering his sword when a quarrel pierced his side. With a grunt of pain, his eyes met hers as he fell to his knees, dark crimson slipping through his fingers where he held his wound. The attacker who had used the crossbow was the son of her lord father's bannerman and he too fell to his knees as a blade slit his throat.

Jeyne watched in horror as one by one the Northmen stood tall while the knights of Westerling were slaughtered. It came as no surprise when her brother yielded as their enemies victoriously surrounded them, some immediately tending to the Northman with the auburn hair who had fallen. It was when she was yanked to her feet and her brother begged them to spare her that they realised that she was a woman.

The blue eyes that studied her, although filled with pain, held no surprise in them.

******************

His name was Robb, the Young Wolf who had a fierce wolf of his own. She had heard his men whispering his name as they passed her. He had been wounded grievously and his lords searched swiftly for a maester they did not have. Her brother offered her instead.

Jeyne did as she was bid. She cleaned his wounds and dressed them, gave him milk of the poppy and stayed by his side. The Young Wolf was a tiresome ward. He neither rested when needed nor did he heed the warnings many voiced. His face was hard but his eyes kind. He worked tirelessly, choosing to pour over maps while having secret discussions with the lords of the north. She could not hate the intruder as much as she tried, for he asked about her life and told her about Winterfell. He spoke of his brothers and sisters, of his mother and dead father. He spoke of vengeance and justice and once even spoke of love.

Before long, she found herself smiling at the mention of his name, laughing when he laughed and feeling pride whenever he requested her counsel. Before long, she began to consider Robb Stark as her friend.

The castle was silent the day news of the siege at Winterfell reached them. The men of the north were sullen, their lords even more so. It was from untrustworthy lips that she had heard of the death of the Stark brothers. It was from her own lords that she knew of the truth of those tidings.

Many told her to leave the King be, to give him the chance to mourn his dead brothers before swearing vengeance. But, the need to see him was great. She found him in the room that she knew he preferred, his face grave as he stared into the dancing flames before him.

"Your grace," she had said softly, pushing the door open slowly so she could see if he might need her. When he looked up from the fire, his gaze meeting hers, Jeyne felt a tightness in her chest. She had never seen such a sense of loss or defeat. She had never felt the need to comfort someone the way she had wanted to comfort the Young Wolf at that moment. His eyes silently pleaded with her, a lone tear falling unbridled down one cheek.

What she did next, she would come to love and hate with all her being. With her heart thudding a quick song inside her chest, she stepped into his chambers slowly before closing the heavy door behind her. She could not miss the look of disapproval his guards gave her, for she had never stayed alone with the King of the North behind closed chambers... until that fateful night.


End file.
